


Shotguns, Sex and Streisand

by trancer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Crack, Demons, F/F, Femslash, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lea Michelle and Dianna Agron - actresses by day, demon hunters by night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotguns, Sex and Streisand

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERESVILLE, WEST TEXAS

“You know,” Lea paused, firing her sawed off, double-barreled shotgun. In the near distance, a demon flew backwards, doing a double back-spin before landing with a hard thud on the ground. In the blink of an eye, Lea cracked open the barrel, the spent shells still smoking like lit cigarettes popped out. She pulled two more shells from the old-school leather holster strapped to her chest, slamming the barrel back into place and pulling back the trigger. “We should totally sue?”

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Dianna pursed her lips. She found the shotgun an antiquated piece of artillery with its constant need of reloading after every firing, preferring her two Walther PPK’s (like James Bond) that fit snugly in the holster she wore under her faux-fur vest. Corey had once said she looked like she’d skinned a muppet. Dianna popped Corey in the mouth. “Sue who?”

Lea rolled her eyes. “Those guys who do ‘Supernatural’. They totally ripped us off.”

“Ripped us off? How?”

Before Lea could explain, something lurched out of the darkness, running towards them. Dianna ran towards it. Tucking her guns in her holster, she then did a front hand-spring ending with a front spin where she pulled her guns from her holsters and shot the approaching demon - one bullet smack dab in the middle of its forehead, the other square in the chest. She landed in a soft crouch, boots barely making a scratch on the dusty street.

“Show off,” Lea muttered.

It was an old mining town, built back sometime in the 1850’s. Like most mining towns, it eventually died off. The last humans moved away some twenty years ago. Nothing left but the architectural skeletal remains slowly withering away by time and the elements. The perfect place for a demon hive.

“Why would we sue the guys from ‘Supernatural’?” Dianna asked, walking back towards Lea as she popped her empty cartridges and slipped in full ones. “Don’t we think they’re cute?”

“They are cute. We’re not suing *them*, we should sue the guy who made the show for ripping us off.”

“Lea, the show was on years before we even met.”

Which was true. While the two were ‘chosen’ - individuals marked by Angels for the purpose of fighting the war with the demons. They hadn’t discovered the other’s true destiny until they’d met on the set of ‘Glee’.

“Plus,” Dianna continued. “The show’s about two brothers. We’re totally not related.”

“Exactly!” Lea felt around on her holster. She was out of shotgun shells. “They obviously changed some things to not make it completely obvious.”

“Seriously?”

“Are you even listening to me? One..” She extended her arm, showing a closed fist, the digits expanding with each point she made. “They’re two guys. We’re not. Two, they’re brothers. We’re not related. Three, they drive a ‘67 Impala. We drive ‘68 Charger. Four, they listen to 70’s rock. We listen to Broadway show tunes. Five..”

“We’re fucking each other,” Dianna smiled lasciviously as she cut Lea off. “They’re..”

“Well,” Lea scrunched her face, staring at the dirt in deep thought. “I guess that depends on who you talk to. Regardless, the similarities are too close to dismiss entirely. Like, in this one episode..”

“Quiet!” Dianna raised up her hand, cutting Lea off. She didn’t have to see the brunette to know Lea had already placed an annoyed hand on her hip striking an ‘I know you didn’t just shush me’ pose. “Listen!”

Lea stilled, her senses immediately going on alert. She slid her shotgun into the holster strapped to her back, then pulled out the katana from the sheath wrapped to her hips. “Don’t say it, Dianna,” she whispered harshly.

“It’s quiet,” Dianna ignored her. “Too quiet.”

Suddenly, the dead, demon infested town erupted with demons. They spilled out of broken windows, poured off rooftops like rainwater, gurgled upwards from the storm drains, dozens and dozens until they numbered over a hundred.

Lea gripped the handle of her katana tighter. “You just had to say it didn’t you?”

Dianna was off like a bullet fired from one of her guns, grinning all ‘yay! It’s killinating time’ wildly. Lea eagerly joined Dianna in the fray. While she loved her shotgun, affectionately named ‘the Liza’. It was nothing compared to her katana - the Garland. Over 600 years old, masterfully crafted and given to Lea by her vocal/martial arts coach. It sliced, it diced and when she was feeling particularly inspired, it julienned demons like butter.

An hour later, after the two had hacked, shot, cut, broken and slayed their way through the demon horde - standing with their backs to each other, skin covered in sweat, hearing nothing but the other’s breathing, the streets littered with demon corpses - all was quiet again.

Mostly.

“Lea?” Dianna asked, a tinge of worry in her voice.

“Yeah,” Lea tensed. “I hear it too.”

A low grumbling, like something deep down in the earth moving. Quickly. The ground shook, a building to their right crumbling on its foundation.

Suddenly, the ground split open as if the very mouths of Hell had opened. Dark and big and ugly, it rose from the opening crack. A Xzyzzxwyxxz, named such because it was the last demon species created and a bitch of a tongue-twister to pronounce. A mass of pure evil, 30 feet at the base and just as tall, it was a giant blob, like Jell-o gone completely wrong, with dozens of trunk like tentacles and hundreds of eyes - human, animal, demon and angel - taken from the creatures it had eaten in its lifespan.

“Um, Lea?” Dianna shifted nervously. Lea had no idea what to say.

It opened something akin to a mouth and roared. Dozens of tentacles, the tips pointed with razor sharp claws, swung towards Dianna and Lea.

Instinctively, they dove for cover in opposite directions. Despite its size, it was fast. It moved with a slithering-wiggling type motion, barreling towards them down Main Street.

“LEA!” Dianna screamed.

A tentacle swung towards Lea. She sliced it off and the creature roared so loud both women had to cover their ears to keep their eardrums from piercing. And then, the creature had Lea in its grasp. A tentacle, thick as lamppost, wrapped around Lea and squeezed tightly, lifting her swiftly off the ground.

All Lea could see were eyes staring at her evilly, hungrily. There was the temptation to scream. She’d seen worse but not by much. But, her training kicked in and rather than use her remaining breath on something as futile as a scream, Lea expanded her lungs as much as she could, filling them with air and..

Sang.

The high F sharp was, well, high and loud. The F sharp, the anti demon-pitch, the one note no demon could stand. It released Lea, its tentacles flailing about to find a way to cover its ears, if it could just figure out where its ears were.

Lea bounded to her feet, taking another insane breath and released the note again.

Behind her, Dianna reached into her faux-furry vest which, like the Tardis, was bigger on the inside and stored a veritable army chest’s worth of weaponry. She quickly lit the stick of dynamite and threw it at the beast. It landed on top of the creature’s head, all several hundred of its eyes moving upwards as the lit stick sunk into its gelatinous skull-like portion. It began to frantically spin top-like, half its tentacles trying to cover its ‘where the Hell are they?’ ears, the other half trying to pull the dynamite from its body.

Dianna dove for cover.

Lea, on the other hand, did not.

The creature exploded. Popped like a balloon filled to excess with very gross things. It rained gooey demon mass, covering most of Main Street with chunks and bits and really disgusting things not worth mentioning. It covered Main Street.

It covered Lea. Who stood in a shocked-like trance, mouth still gaping open but unable to make a sound even though she really, really wanted to scream.

Dianna emerged from her hidey hole, completely clean except for the bits of dust and dirt she brushed off her shoulders. She stepped towards Lea then immediately stepped back, hand coming to her face to cover her nose. “God, I thought those things smelled bad on the *outside*!”

Lea finally found her voice. “Shower!” she whimpered as if she were about to start crying. “NOW!”

**

Two and a half hours later, Dianna stretched out on the mattress of the run-down motel, flipping through a decades old ‘Vogue’ (there was *nothing* on tv). She wore nothing but panties and an old White Strokes t-shirt she probably should have thrown away about ten washes ago but couldn't because it was a present from Lea.

They’d paused at a truck stop on the way back to the motel because, God, Dianna was not going to drive another mile with *that* _smell_ in the car. They stopped and pulled into the car wash adjacent to the gas station, where Dianna hosed Lea off for a full twenty minutes before allowing her back into the car. It’d gotten most of the.. bits off her and most of the smell but, God, they were totally going to have to reupholster the Charger to completely get rid of the noxious odor.

Dianna showered first because she could be quick about it and Lea was probably going to spend the rest of the night in there. Which she did, sorta, because two hours later, Lea finally emerged from the bathroom. The last of the flimsy towels wrapped around her torso, hair slick across her scalp, she strode towards the dresser and began checking her reflection in the mirror.

“God,” she huffed, smoothing her eyebrows with a thumb. “The lighting in that bathroom is horrid. It doesn’t get my good side, like, at.. all.”

“So which one am I?” Dianna, having lost interest in fashion trends now dated, tossed the magazine onto the table, rolled onto her back, propping herself up onto her elbows. “Sam or Dean?”

Lea ‘pfft’ed’. “Sam, obviously.”

“Wait. Which one is Sam?”

“Sam’s the tall, broody one with puppy-dog eyes,” Lea explained, her eyes meeting the reflection of Dianna’s in the mirror.

“And Dean is?”

“The stoic warrior torn between his duty as a hunter and his love for his brother.”

“Whatever,” Dianna rolled her eyes at Lea having, once again, cast herself in the more prominent role. “Which one’s the top?”

“What?”

“You said, depending on who you talk to, they’re fucking, right?” Dianna slid forward until her legs slipped off the bed and she could sit up. “So, which one’s the top and which one’s the bottom?”

“Depends on who you ask, or what you read. Honestly, there’s only so many ‘turgid cock sliding into tight, virgin ass’ stories I can read before it all starts becoming a bit too phallus obsessed for my tastes. And stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop staring at my ass like it's a hot, buttered biscuit fresh from the oven.”

“Well,” Dianna rose from the bed, her eyes glued to Lea’s ass as she approached her from behind. “I do love biscuits.” She wrapped her arms around Lea’s waist, pressing her lips against Lea’s ear. “Does Sam love biscuits?”

Lea licked her lips, lifting her arm until her hand thread into Dianna’s hair. “I’m not that into the show to know Dean’s culinary tastes.”

Dianna ran a hand under the towel, slipping it easily between Lea’s legs. “What about seafood?”

“Don’t be crass,” Lea husked, already arching her hips, rolling onto Dianna‘s fingers. “But, since you asked, in certain realms, Sam is considered quite the cunning linguist. In the stories where Dean‘s a girl.. or Sam‘s a girl.. or they‘re both girls.”

“Really?” Dianna slipped the tip of her index finger into Lea’s opening, teasing gently, watching Lea’s face in the mirror as her lower lip sucked hard between her teeth.

“Yes,” Lea hissed as Dianna’s finger slid in deeper. “Dean’s always the bigger pussy hound but Sam’s the more sensitive of the two.”

“Are you?” Dianna quickly withdrew her finger, pressing it hard against Lea’s clit. “Sensitive?”

Something snapped within Lea, like a rubber band pulled to tight. She whipped around, hands clasping on either side of Dianna’s face and crashing their lips together. Dianna giggled into Lea’s mouth, a little smugly satisfied but mostly turned on. She lifted Lea onto the dresser, roughly pulling open Lea’s legs. Her hand back between them, two fingers sliding quickly, deeply into her. She thrust her fingers, using her hips as leverage. In and out, hard and deep, the dresser rocking on its shaky foundation, the wood smacking hard against the wall.

Lea pulled away, breaking their kiss. She planted her forehead into the crook of Dianna’s neck. She couldn’t kiss and concentrate at the same time, give in to the exquisite pleasure overtaking her body. Half-whimpers, half-wails squeaked from her lips with every thrust of Dianna’s fingers. Like sensory overload, it was too much and not enough. Her arms wrapped tighter around Dianna’s shoulders, her teeth digging into the soft flesh and she felt Dianna’s growl reverberate down to her core.

She was so close. So close.

Dianna withdrew her fingers, to the whimpering protestations of Lea. She grabbed Lea by the ass, lifting her up and off the dresser then spun around and tossed Lea onto the bed. Lea flopped backwards, the towel wrapped around her spilling open. Dianna was on her, kissing her, groping her, fingering her, all hands and lips and pure want.

Then, Dianna was descending. And Lea was gripping the sheets with her hands as Dianna’s folded Lea’s up and pinned them by the back of her knees. Then it was nothing but tongue and lips and glorious friction.

“Dianna..” Lea keened. She reached down with a hand, meeting with Dianna’s as their fingers thread together. It was her last cognitive thought. Her body erupted with pleasure, skin rippling, body undulating, her lungs filling with air and, for the second time that evening..

Lea hit the high F sharp.

Minutes, hours, hell, days later, Lea was never really sure in those moments after Dianna made her body sing, Lea slowly opened her eyes. Dianna was atop her now, gazing down, lips shiny and wet and spread into the biggest shit-eating grin ever.

“I guess this means,” Dianna smiled. “Sam’s the top.”

“Please,” Lea snorted, sliding her hands under Dianna’s t-shirt and gripping the perfect breasts like they held the secrets of life. “Everyone knows the bottom has all the power.”

**

Dianna groaned, watching Lea as she slipped the ‘A Star Is Born’ soundtrack into the car’s cd player. “Can we listen to something else for a change?”

Lea recoiled as if she’d been struck. “You did *not* just say what I think you just said?”

“I’m just saying,” Dianna shrugged. “There are other artists out there.”

“Other artists, yes.” Lea reached for the power button. “But only one Streisand.”

Before she could press the button, the phone connected to their GPS unit began to ring. The Special phone. Both their eyes lit up.

“Oh my God,” Dianna gasped. “Is that?”

Lea nodded. “I think so.”

“You gonna answer it?”

“You answer it.”

“No, you answer it. Besides, I think she likes you better than me.”

Lea’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Dianna snapped, “Just answer the damn phone!”

Lea, her fingers shaking, reached forward and put the device on speaker-phone. They spoke in unison. “Good morning, Mrs. Streisand.”

“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me, you two-bit Wicked wanna-be, Chenowith, Menzel knock-off’s,” Streisand shouted, more like slurred drunkenly at the top of her voice into the phone. It was 10am in New York and Streisand was on her seventh martini which, for Babs, meant brunch.

“Mrs. Streisand,” Lea leaned towards the phone, hand placed affectionately over her heart because she felt she had a stronger connection to the legend than Dianna. Lea was six, alone in her bedroom, watching her well-worn VHS tape of ‘Funny Girl’ when Fanny Brice suddenly stopped singing ‘Don’t Rain On My Parade’ and began speaking to Lea. She told Lea of her special destiny and how she must train in both the performing and martial arts and how she would soon be called to fight in the war with the demons. She ended the conversation by warning then six-year-old Lea if she ever caught Lea masturbating to any of Barbara’s movies, she’d cut off her head and shove it down the bloody stump. While having no idea at the time what masturbation was, little Lea swore profusely that she’d do no such thing. Thankfully, at the age of Lea’s sexual awakening, Bob Fosse or, more importantly Anne Reinking and her five-mile long legs came to Lea’s five-fingered and curious rescue.

“Mrs. Streisand,” Lea repeated. “Can I just say what an honor it is to work for you.”

“Shut it, ass pimple! Do you think I married James Brolin because of his scintillating conversation? No, it’s because he has a beard that tickles my ass when I sit on his face and cock that’s like a baby’s arm holding an apple!! Quit mumbling, James. Do I look like I care if you can breathe?” Babs paused and both girls scrunched like they’d both bitten into the very same sour lemon. “Why the FUCK aren’t you in California!?!”

“California?” Dianna piped in because Lea had been rendered speechless. “Why would we be there?”

“What?” Babs snapped back. “You think because you’re the Chosen Ones, you’re allowed to think? BECAUSE I FUCKING SAID SO!! And if you two hadn‘t been so busy bashing gash like two lesbian competitive eaters at a muff-diving contest YOU‘D HAVE GOTTEN MY FUCKING MESSAGE!!”

“Oh!” Lea’s eyes widened even more than they already were. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out her cell. It blinked with a single message, the words ‘The Divine One’ displayed back at her. “Sorry.”

“We can’t go to California,” Dianna whined. “We have a mall signing in in Peoria to go to.”

“In 1983 on the night of the Golden Globes, in which ‘Yentl‘ was nominated for five awards, I killed fifty-seven Calgro demons in Simi Valley, twelve more in San Diego and still made it in time for the awards. I have 2 Academy Awards, 8 Grammies, 4 Emmy’s..”

“And a Tony,” Lea piped in.

“Thank you, Lea.” Lea beamed, wiggling proudly in her seat. “And I hold the record for most demon kills in one day that has yet to be broken. You think I give two shits about a MALL SIGNING for a show with mediocre ratings on the goddamned FOX NETWORK!?! Now, you two stop swapping fingers, get your asses to LA and *kill* Chad Michael Murray.”

“Seriously?” Lea asked.

“Do you honestly believe ‘One Tree Hill’ has stayed on the air for seven years because it’s GOOD!?! That fucker made a deal with the devil. I need you two to stop that bad acting pissant before he plagues the world with another series. And somebody get me a goddamn martini that doesn‘t taste like piss and vodka!!”

Lea reached forward, hitting the end button like Barbara Streisand could actually reach through the phone and bite her arm off.

“Wow,” Dianna exhaled. “She’s..”

“Intense,” Lea answered.

“I was gonna say swears like a drunken sailor at a cuss word convention that’s having an ‘everything must go’ sale but intense works.”

“Ladies,” Babs voice spoke up and both girls jumped in their seats. “Hang up the fucking phone!”

Dianna’s hand shot forward, ending the connection then going so far as to turn the power off just to be sure. She turned the key in the ignition, put the car into gear and drove towards the highway.

“So,” after an hour of listening to ‘Funny Girl’ (again), Dianna decided to make some conversation for no other reason than it gave her the opportunity to turn the volume down. “You still wanna sue ‘Supernatural’? I mean, if it really is about us, don‘t you think Mrs. Streisand,” she shuddered at the mere mention of the woman’s name, “would have done something about it by now?”

“I suppose.” She‘d propped her elbow up onto the windowsill, leaning her head against her palm as she stared vacantly through the windshield. “There is the rumor that Kripke made a last-minute change to his story before pitching it to the CW.”

“You think..” Dianna paused, her eyes flicking towards the phone to make absolutely certain that it was turned off. “*She* got to him?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. It kinda makes sense. Let a semi-sorta fictional story based on the truth air so no one believes the real version.”

“Huh,” was all Dianna could say. The car descended into silence once more, the miles passing by, with nothing but the sounds of the engine, the wind whipping by and Barbara Streisand filling their ears.

“Dianna?” Lea asked as El Paso filled the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah?”

Lea turned in her seat until she completely faced Dianna. “How many more miles until we get to LA?”

She looked at the GPS attached to the front windshield. “About 700. Why?”

Lea slid closer, placing her hand on Dianna’s thigh and letting it slide upwards. “I was thinking about this one story,” her hand slid higher and she wiggled her fingers against the crotch of Dianna’s jeans. “Where Dean shows Sam a few things about sex while driving.”

Dianna sucked in a breath as Lea’s fingers popped the top button of Dianna’s jeans. “I thought Sam was the cunning linguist?”

“Oh he is,” Lea answered, sliding down Dianna’s zipper, then slipping her hand into the opened jeans. “But Dean has way more tricks up his sleeve or, in this instance, down your panties.”

“God,” Dianna groaned, desperately trying not to close her eyes. “And we wanna sue them because?”

Lea never answered. Her mouth had become occupied with one of Dianna’s nipples as her fingers slipped way too eagerly into Dianna. One hand clenching the steering wheel with a vice grip, the other threading into Lea’s hair, all Dianna could think was..

It was gonna be a *long* drive to LA.

**

PS: They never did find Chad Michael Murray.

END


End file.
